


Trust

by yansurnummu



Series: Touch of the Void [5]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Dark Age, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Drunk Sex, Dubious Consent, Edging, Lightplay, M/M, Mild humiliation kink, Oral Fixation, Oral Sex, Orgasm Denial, Porn With Plot, Power Imbalance, Rough Sex, Smoking, Spanking, Trans Male Character, Unhealthy Relationships, because i never see enough trans men as dom tops, trans author
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-11
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2020-01-11 08:47:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18427115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yansurnummu/pseuds/yansurnummu
Summary: James trusted him, despite the warning signs.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Before we begin, I gotta say - DON'T TRY THIS AT HOME, KIDS  
> Healthy relationships, BDSM or otherwise, are founded on COMMUNICATION, something these idiots are TERRIBLE AT.  
> **Nate is a trans man, and I use "cunt" and "dick" to refer to his junk.

Natanael Fierez. The Red Jackal. No-good, two-timin’, bloodthirsty sonuvabitch. The man has a lot of names, most of ‘em accurate.

Some folk say he's seven feet tall and wears the skulls of his enemies as armour. Some say he’s a mongrel, a hyena, and laughs like one too. Some even say he's a vampire that won't come in unless you let him, and if you do, you'll damn your town to ashes.

James knows him as Nate. In reality, he's a scrawny little bastard, but James knows better than to judge him based on that alone.

Nate's silver-tongued, slimy, knows how to weasel his way into places he shouldn't be. He's resourceful, underhanded, an opportunist if ever James saw one.

Worst of all, he's fuckin’ beautiful. He's got a wild mess of dark hair, clipped short on one side, that he usually keeps tied up under an ugly old hat. His skin is brown, sun-weathered, little nicks of old scars on his face and hands, day-old eyeliner smudged around his eyes. His eyes, oh - there's an intensity behind those big brown eyes, an intensity that often makes James shiver despite its burning heat.

 

* * *

 

Nate strikes a match on the sole of his boot, giving James a smirk as he holds it up for him. James leans in, sucking in the smoke of his cigarette as it's lit.

He doesn't bat an eye as the man then raises the match to his mouth, popping the flame between his lips. James exhales at the sound of the match hissing against the man's tongue.

“Y’know, you could just have a smoke.” James mutters. Nate laughs, the match between his teeth. He spits it out onto the ground before facing James.

“A’ight,” he replies before he picks the cigarette from James’ fingers.

James watches him put the filter between his lips, perhaps a little more closely than he'd like to admit. His eyes narrow from the burn as Nate exhales smoke a little too close to his face. The man wears a mischievous grin, and if James didn't know better, he'd say there was some kinda heat behind his eyes. “Better?”

James snorts, taking back his cigarette before hiding behind it, trying his damndest not to dwell on how _good_ Nate looked with it between his lips.

  


“Trapper,” some time later, James tenses when he hears his nickname called across the warehouse, the low, gravelly drawl making him shiver. He looks up and Nate is leaning against the railing of the catwalk outside the old office that now serves as his room. His hair is loose, messy dark locks gathered over one shoulder, and he wears a baggy sleeveless shirt, tucked into his jeans at the front. The casual clothes make him look a little smaller, but no less scary.  

“C’mere a sec.” And with that, he disappears into the room once more.

James sets down his leatherworking things, along with the quiver he was working on fixing. He takes a deep breath as he heads for the stairs, trying to think of what he could've done this time.

“Nice knowin’ ya, JJ,” James scoffs when he hears the muffled northern accent, resisting the urge to kick over the sparrow he knows its owner is hidden behind.

“Feelin’s not mutual, O’Connell.” he shoots back as he keeps walking.

“Ah, you wound me!” he looks back over his shoulder to see his messy blond head appear from behind the sparrow, pushing his goggles up onto his head. “I'm takin’ your shit if ya die,” James just catches as he begins to head up the stairs.

“You most certainly ain't! Quirk, keep an eye on that rat bastard.” he calls across the warehouse. Quirk looks up, unamused, from where she sits with an old book. Her optics blink up at James, and she  clicks her facial plates in acknowledgement.

“Yeah, right. If anyone gets James’ shit, it'd be me…” the rough static of Sotiris’ voice reaches his ears, and he just waves them off.

James shakes his head as he reaches Nate's door, tuning out the continued bickering downstairs.

 

“You takin’ me for a fool, pardner?” Nate says as soon as James shuts the door. He's sitting at his desk, boots propped up on the weathered old wood.

“I'm sorry?” his heart races. Surely he didn't do anything to anger him, did he?

Nate chuckles, eyes fixed on him. “A fool. I ain't one. I seen you lookin’,” his gaze wanders down James’ form, “lookin’ like you _want_ somethin’.”

James’ eyes widen.

“Uh,” he starts, gives a nervous laugh, then tries again. “Well, I - yeah. I mean, you're _very_ handsome, and intimidating.” he stutters a bit despite himself.

Nate grins like something clicks in his mind. He pulls his feet off the desk to rest on the floor instead, and James’ heart skips when he beckons him closer.

“First rule o’ larceny, sweetheart,” Nate speaks as James moves around the desk cautiously, until he's standing in front of him. “want somethin’? Take it.”

James’ tongue darts out over his lips as the man spreads his legs apart, leaning back in the chair. “Now get on yer knees, bitch. I wanna know if yer mouth feels as good as it looks.”

Nate pulls at his belt as James sinks to his knees in front of him, his mouth watering, wanting to touch, to _taste._ He rests his hands on bony knees, staring up at the man as he tugs open the front of his pants. “Ain't you lookin’ eager for it,” James’ cock twitches at the smoky sound of his voice, running a hand along the inside of his thigh. “Go on, then. Show me what you got.”

Nate grins, leaning back in the chair, canting his hips as James hooks his fingers at the hem of his jeans to pull them down. His breath catches at the sight of his cunt, dick full and lips flushed.

James dives in eagerly, moaning when he tastes him. He moves his tongue along already damp lips, kissing and sucking at anything he can get his mouth on.

“Good boy,” Nate inhales sharply as he tongues over his dick, and suddenly all James wants is to hear a reaction out of him.

Nimble fingers comb through his hair as he eats him. His own cock strains uncomfortably against his pants but he can't bring himself to care when Nate tastes this good, looks this good. His lips close around his dick and he sucks gently, earning a tightened grip in his hair. James groans when that hand pulls, shoving his face harder against his cunt.

“You like that, huh? Me pullin’ yer hair,” he laps at him hungrily with Nate’s soft sighs of encouragement, his nose buried in coarse black hair. His tongue dips into his hole, relishing the heady taste of his slick, finally earning a muttered _fuck_ from the man.

Nate's hips grind against his face as he fucks him with his tongue, and James can't help how he moans against him. “Look at you. Yer lovin’ this, huh?” his words come out breathy, husky, and it makes James’ cock ache. “Fuckin’ whore.”

James squirms where he sits, finally letting one hand fall to palm himself through his pants, groaning at the slightest pressure. He drags his tongue back up to swirl around Nate's dick, his hand squeezing around his own cock at the low moan it earns him. He keeps at it, wanting to wring that sound from the man again and again, and he's not disappointed.

Nate raises his free hand to cover his mouth, his hips rocking into James’ mouth as his dick is sucked. “Want me to come in yer mouth, whore?” his voice is barely audible as he pants, and James looks up at him with his dick between his lips. He looks fuckin’ gorgeous, his face flushed and his eyes dark, gaze burning into James’ skin. James doesn't want to stop long enough to reply, so he only moans, quickening his pace.

He watches Nate's eyes squeeze shut, moaning low in his throat. James can feel all the muscles in his body tensing as he comes, gripping dark curls tight, and _fuck,_ he looks damn good. James licks him slowly through his orgasm, admiring the man as he gasps and pants.

Nate lets out a sated sigh, his fingernails scraping along James’ scalp while he comes down from his climax.

“Goddamn,” he chuckles, a little breathless. He releases James’ hair, who moves back, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Nate -” he starts and then stops, a little taken aback by the needy sound of his voice. His own dick is still aching and hard, neglected behind his jeans.

“Get up.” Nate orders, and James’ breath catches. He stands, a little unsteady, taking a step back as Nate follows him while he fixes his clothing.

James yelps in surprise when he's grabbed by the collar of his shirt, yanked down into a bruising kiss. He moans as the gunslinger bites and sucks at his lips, pushing him backwards while he licks hungrily into his mouth.

He then finds himself spun around, shoved roughly into Nate's desk with his arms pinned behind his back.

“This what you want, whore?” he growls, pressing himself against James’ back so his lips are right by his ear. “Want me to fuck you?” he grinds against James’ ass, making him whimper. “You wanna be my bitch?”

“Y-yeah, yeah,” James whines, moving his hips to press his ass against the man behind him, desperate for any kind of sensation.

Nate laughs darkly, releasing James’ arms to knead at the flesh of his ass through his jeans. James moans, pressing his forehead into the desk as those hands move along the backs of the thighs, down the cleft of his ass and stopping _just_ before his balls, and he whines at the teasing.

“Fuckin’ whore,” Nate's palm comes down hard over his ass, and James yelps, his cock throbbing. He sighs when the gunslinger withdraws, and he hears him move across the room.

His hips move involuntarily, anticipating whatever it is Nate’ll come back with. He hears shuffling around the shelves behind him.

Then footsteps.

Then the creaking of the office door opening and shutting.

James straightens, confused. And to his horror, when he looks around the room, Nate is gone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They never talked about it. Any of it. James didn't mind, at least not at first.

He relishes the hands around his neck, the way his heart races in time with Nate's thrusts, his vision blurry and faded from lack of air. He claws at the gunslinger’s hands when it becomes too much, gasping and lightheaded when he eases off his throat. When he’s close to the edge, Nate holds him there until he cries and begs. Sometimes, he even lets him come.

It’s just another skirmish, James realizes. When Nate watches him from across the room, predatory gaze burning into his skin, it’s fight or flight. When Nate throws him against the wall, teeth sinking into his lip hard enough to taste copper, it’s adrenaline rushing through his veins.

James is addicted to it.

 

* * *

 

“James,” a gentle hand on his arm stops him in the gateway of the warehouse yard. He turns his head to face Courtney, a little surprised. “Are you… alright?”

He blinks at them. “Yeah, why?”

“Just…” they sigh, letting go of his arm. “The bruises. And normally you come to me when you're hurt, but you're tryin' to hide 'em.”

He feels… anxious. He swallows as Courtney watches him, their brow furrowed.

“Yeah. Yeah, I'm good,” he gives them a smile. “They'll heal.”

“James.” the look they give him is tired, concerned. James lowers his gaze to the ground.

He flinches when their slender hand comes up, fingertips pressing softly over the marks around his throat. The flesh there is sore, and he shifts uncomfortably where he stands as Courtney inspects it. Relief washes over him along with their Light, warm solar energy soothing his skin.

“Y'know you can talk to me. Any time.” Their voice is soft. It's a softness he's missed.

Courtney leaves him after a moment, and James is grateful they don't press the issue further.

He's fine.

Right?

 

* * *

 

“Sit,” Nate says simply, sternly.

James’ breath catches before he obediently drops to his knees in front of the man.

The gunslinger chuckles - a low, mocking sound - slowly circling behind him, fingertips running along his bare shoulders. “Atta boy.”

Those clever fingers comb through James’ hair, and he sighs at the gentle touch. He knows full well it's as gentle as he's gonna get tonight, so when he gasps as dark curls are gripped hard and his head gets yanked back, it's not out of surprise or anything, no - just anticipation for what's to come.

Nate leans over him, puts his lips right by his ear. “Always been my best, ain'tcha?” he drawls, words rough. His other hand comes to rest at James’ throat, his voice dropping just enough to make James shudder, “some might call you my _favorite.”_

James swallows, his eyes fluttering shut. His breath comes out uneven when he sighs, and he hears the other man’s tongue click.

“Yer lucky I'm the… _generous_ type, else I'd keep you all to myself.” the hand around his throat gives the barest hint of pressure, drawing a needy sound from James’ lips.

“Still,” he huffs out a laugh, “don't mean I ain't gonna make sure everybody knows yer _mine,_ first and foremost,” he releases his hair with a rough push, and James has to catch himself to keep from falling on his face.

“Boss -” he's about to raise his head when he finds himself shoved to floor, a boot between his shoulder blades.

“Did I _say_ you could talk, bitch?” Nate growls. The aggression in his tone makes James whimper.

It's always been like this with Nate. Violence is all he knows, James thinks. Not that he's complaining, mind. The man is fierce - whether it's fighting or fucking or anything in between, James can't think of a time he's been merciful.

“Answer me!” James realizes too late it was a question, as the boot digs harder into his back.

“No, no, sir! I'm sorry, sir!”

“Not yet you ain't,” James squirms at the threat, almost missing when Nate moves off of him until he's given a nudge at his side. “Get up.”

He picks himself off the floor, his heart racing as he turns to face his boss. Nate's eyes rake over his form hungrily, and he's given a rough push backwards.

James feels like a gazelle stalked by a big cat out in the plains, more prey than predator. Nate's small, sure, but _god,_ he's got a presence, one that keeps James led backwards, herded right into his trap. His breath hitches when the backs of his thighs hit the desk, and the gunslinger closes in.

“Look at you,” Nate palms at the hard line of his cock through his pants, and James shudders. “Already this fuckin’ hard, and all I done is kicked you to the ground,” his hips buck against his hand when he squeezes, whining at his teasing words. “Don't matter how many times we do this, I'm always surprised by how much ‘a dirty bitch you are.”

His words are punctuated by him pulling James' belt loose and yanking open the front of his jeans. James gasps as he's spun around, then grunts with the impact of being shoved against the desk. "I'll bet, yer even gonna _like_ yer punishment." Nate growls behind him, shoving James' jeans down to his thighs.

James grips the edge of the desk as Nate's palm comes down hard over his ass, the sound of it ringing in his ears. He squirms as the flesh begins to sting, then yelps as his hand comes down across the other cheek.

"Oh, did that hurt?" he asks, more mocking than concerned for James' enjoyment. James whines as he hits him again, and again. "Tell me."

"Y-yes sir," he gasps out. Nate's hand come down a little harder, and tears begin to well in James' eyes. His cock twitches where it's trapped between his body and the desk, betraying how much he actually gets off on this. "Hurts… good…" he sobs.

He hears Nate laugh over the sound of his hand against his skin.

"Good, huh? You better start apologizin' or I just might make you regret that." his words are punctuated with another loud _smack._

"I… fuck!" James chokes as he's hit once more, his flesh beginning to feel numb from the pain. "I'm sorry, sir!"

"For?" Nate drawls, his hand pausing a moment to grab at James' ass instead.

"F-fo… _ahh,"_ Nate apparently decided he took too long, as his hand draws back and hits him again. "I spoke withou' permission!" he sobs out quickly, and Nate hums.

"And?" he returns to kneading at James' abused flesh, and James whines.

"An' I gotta… gotta learn m' place." he breathes, his hips moving against Nate's touch.

"There ya go," James sighs as deft fingers smooth along his spine, his hips, his thighs. The touch is uncharacteristically soft for Nate, but James isn't about to complain. “I think you've earned yer reward,” Nate chuckles after a moment. “on the bed. Lay down.”

James feels sluggish as he carefully picks himself up off the desk. Nate watches him intently, heat in his gaze, while he moves to the bed. His cock twitches when Nate pulls his shirt off over his head, revealing scarred skin and coarse, dark hair.

He follows James to the edge of the bed, shoving him down to sit, and despite how his ass aches, James wants nothing more than to touch him, to wrap his hands around his slim waist and press his lips to all his scars. Nate unzips his jeans and James swallows as he steps out of them.

“On yer back.” he orders, and James obediently moves himself to lay flat on his bed.

What he doesn't expect is for Nate to straddle him, knocking the breath from his lungs as his cock brushes against the man's cunt. His hands move instinctively to grip Nate's thighs, but the man grabs his wrists, pinning them roughly by his head.

“Here's how this is gonna work,” he says as he leans over him, weight pressing down on James’ wrists. “I'm gonna ride you ‘til you cum. Then, since yer a goddamn filthy whore, I'm gonna sit on yer face and make you clean it up.” James shudders excitedly at the idea, his hips moving, desperate for friction. “Clear?”

“Yeah - yes, sir,” he manages.

“Good.” Nate releases his wrists, sitting up once more. “Keep yer hands there.” James only nods, chewing his lip.

His hands grip at the pillow, a whine escaping him as Nate lines himself up. The grin he wears is dangerous, challenging. His cock aches, feeling the heat and wetness of him pressing _just slightly_ against him, fighting between the urge to thrust up, and the desire to be good for his boss.

“Ain't you a damn mess,” Nate breathes, that same grin on his face, “I like it.” And with that, he sinks down.

James tries in vain to bite back his moan when he bottoms out, but _fuckin’ hell,_ Nate feels too good, and the way he _groans_ \- James can't think of a time he's sounded any nicer. He watches Nate still, lips parted as he sighs, taking a moment to adjust to James’ girth. James briefly thinks that if his time with the gunslinger is anything to go by, it's not often he takes on this role.

He gasps as Nate begins to roll his hips, slow, testing. The other man's hands are braced against his chest as he picks up his pace, and James moans at the feeling of his cock sliding in and out of that silky wet heat.

"Shame yer such a goddamn princess," Nate sneers, even though he sounds lost. "with a… dick like this - _fuck,"_ he curses when James rolls his hips up into him.

His small victory is short-lived, as Nate's palm hits him across the cheek and creates stars behind his eyes. He knows he can't last long with how the man is now fucking himself in earnest, his face now stinging with the thrill and impact of being slapped. "Fuckin'... cheeky _bitch,"_ Nate moans through gritted teeth, and James matches his movements, relishing the sight of the gunslinger’s resolve wearing thin.

And as much as he wants to see if he can break that resolve entirely, he's not the one in control here. Nate's movements and insults have him gasping, and his orgasm bubbles up suddenly. He moans, his grip on the pillow tightening as he comes hard, spilling inside the gunslinger.

"Atta boy," Nate rides him until he's spent and it becomes too much, watching James with heat in his gaze. James watches as he dismounts his cock, a small trail of cum dripping out of his soaked cunt.

Before James really realizes it, he's got Nate's thighs around his shoulders and clever hands in his hair. He sighs at the scent of him, cum and sweat and sex, and he cranes his neck eagerly, wanting to taste him.

It's a filthy thing, and James _loves_ it. Nate gasps when he licks at his hole, dipping his tongue inside and moaning at the taste of his own release. In a small rebellion, he removes his hands from the pillow, pulling Nate's hips closer to grind against his face as he eats him out. Nate doesn't complain this time, too focused on chasing his own orgasm to notice James' hand moving between his thighs.

The moan that comes from the gunslinger’s lips is obscene when James presses two fingers into him, curling them as he tongues at his dick. His grip tightens in his hair and James can't help but smile as Nate curses at him, rolling his hips into his mouth.

James feels the man's thighs trembling as he nears the edge, and James is happy to give him that final push. All his muscles tense and his cunt tightens around his fingers as he comes with a shout, and James licks and sucks him until he's pulled back by his hair.

When he looks up, Nate is hunched over him, panting, his hands on either side of James' head. He looks absolutely wrecked, and James thinks it's fuckin' beautiful.

"I ain't even mad. That was awesome." Nate mutters once he catches his breath. James brings his hands back up to the pillow, feigning innocence with a mischievous smile. The man gives him a growl and rough shove before climbing off of him, leaving him alone and dazed.

 

“Don't you be gettin’ too comfortable, sweetheart.” Nate's voice comes from somewhere in the room after a moment.

James turns his head to the side where he lays catching his breath, watching the gunslinger pull his jeans up over his hips. He sighs when the words finally register, but doesn't make any attempt to move.

Nate doesn't make any further attempt to kick him out, either. Instead, James hears the strike of a match, and soon his senses are filled with the smell of tobacco. The mattress dips, and before he realizes Nate's settled back beside him, he's being kissed.

Well, maybe he wouldn't call it that. The way Nate kisses him is all teeth and tongue, his breath full of smoke. It makes James dizzy, leaves him winded and wanting. It's nothing like the soft touch of a lover; but that's why he's here, isn't it?

He leaves him just as quickly, but James lets him go, suddenly overcome with how exhausted he is. Nate doesn't say anything as he pulls up the chair at his desk, the cigarette between his teeth while he ties up his unruly mess of hair. James closes his eyes for just a moment, the sound of papers shuffling fading into the background.

 

He dreams of a pine forest. It's a place he knows well, better than anyone who tries to track him through it. He leads them into traps, over ledges and through territories of aggressive wildlife.

He was the hunter, once.

 

He wakes suddenly, all his senses alert, reaching for the knife he keeps in his jacket -

And slowly regains his thread of time when instead of warm layers, his hand finds bare skin. He's wrapped in threadbare sheets and woven blankets where there should've been a dirty wool cloak, his surroundings lit by the warm glow of a lamp instead of moonlight.

And instead of a wolf, or someone managing to get the drop on him, there's Nate, still right where he left him. James can't have been out long, he thinks. He relaxes back into the stiff mattress when the man doesn't pay him any mind.

The only light in the room is from the lamp on Nate's desk some feet away, casting a dull glow on the gunslinger’s face as he works. Maybe it's a sign of how exhausted he is, but he swears Nate almost looks calm, serene. Like in this moment, he's not a crook, or a conman; in this moment, he's just… human. Or, as human as a Risen can be, James supposes.

He doesn't look up as James shifts, rolling onto his front and gathering the pillow in his arms. James wonders if Nate even remembers he's in the room. If he asked him, would he come to bed? Would he hold him close until he fell back asleep? James banishes those thoughts from his mind as quickly as they surface. Of course he wouldn't.

James buries his face in the worn fabric of the pillow. The sheets smell like Nate, and he closes his eyes, breathing in the scent of smoke and sex, gunpowder and leather. It's a far cry from pine and rain and earth, but it makes him feel at home nonetheless.

He exhales into the fabric, willing away the tightness in his throat. He knows Nate doesn't feel the same about him. He's just a thing for him to use, and throw away when he doesn't need him anymore. Despite everything, laying alone in Nate's bed as he works is as close as James ever felt to him.

So he cherishes moments like this. The midnight calm between storms, where he can drift off wrapped in a familiar scent, the soft scraping of a pen on paper the song that lulls him to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being out in the field with Nate and Sotiris was always a pleasure. James felt like the three of them could take on the world, if they had to.

James waits, watchful, on the roof of an old building. It's a small, abandoned town, except for the old shop he's got in his line of sight, where an Iron Wolf party's holed up.

He can see Nate from where he is, hidden under a window from the watchman's sight. He signals James with a movement of his arm.

James knocks an arrow, steadies his breath. Draws from the void as he looses it. The arrow pierces the throat of the watchman, and they go down.

He hears commotion further into the building, clanging of metal where Sotiris had entered from around back. And he watches Nate vault the window, the shots of his Golden Gun echoing off the surrounding buildings. He knows if it weren't for the mask over his face, he'd be choking on the stench of burning flesh.

James covers them, firing an arrow into the skull of a Wolf creeping up behind Nate, then another he sees in the window above them.

He pulls his knife from his belt as he hears the switch and hissing of smoke from his tripmine at the top of the stairs behind him, followed by a startled noise. His visitor pushes through the smoke, but lost the element of surprise. James rushes them, and their rifle clatters to the floor as his knife sinks in below their jaw.

When he scares off their Ghost and returns his attention to his vantage point, he sees Sotiris waving him down. He gives her a wave back, picking up his bow and dropping from the roof to the ruined street below.

 

_"'Iron Lords',_ pft," Nate chuckles, rummaging through an open crate. "Them n' them fur capes - what fuckin' century is this?" He picks up a small burlap bag, opens it. He makes a disgusted face when he sniffs it, tossing it to the side.

"Says the man dressed like a _vaquero,"_ Sotiris jabs from the other side of the room. James snorts, turning his attention back to watching the door.

"Ay, this is fashion, darlin',"

"Would you lot hurry it up?" James rolls his eyes. "Dunno when more'll show up."

"Yeah, yeah," Sotiris brushes past him with a crate in her arms. "Would be bad if they brought out the big boys," she drops the crate on the back of her sparrow, tying it down. Nate comes out a moment later, carrying another crate.

"No shit. Lucky none o' them 'Lords' were here." he passes the crate to Sotiris before heading back in for the last one.

"I heard one of 'em's got a giant flamin' axe," James sneers, nervously keeping an eye on their surroundings.

"Right, and some o' them are actual, literal wolves," Nate laughs as he returns with the crate, helping Sotiris secure it on the back of his own sparrow. "Just stories, cowboy. Nothin' to worry yer pretty head over."

James sighs, leaving his post as they get ready to leave.

"Either way," Sotiris says as she climbs onto her sparrow, the vehicle whirring to life. "Lotta folks followin' 'em lately. That 'iron decree' of theirs is gonna be bad for business."

"Aw, they'll get theirs, don't you worry" Nate replies, starting up his own sparrow. "Anyone tryn'a tame this godforsaken hellscape is an idiot, that's for damn sure."

Sotiris laughs. "I'll drink to that!" she shouts over the whir of the sparrow before she's off, leaving James and Nate to chase after her as they head back to the warehouse.

 

* * *

 

"To livin' free!"

_"Livin' free!"_

"An' stickin' it to them warlords while we're at it, eh?"

The group laughs, cheering agreement. Nate hops down from the upturned crate he'd been standing on, knocking back his drink when the attention is no longer on him. Well, most of the attention. James' eyes are still on him.

"I give them Wolves a lotta shit, but their whiskey ain't that bad," the gunslinger says as he approaches, slumping down next to James by the fire.

"It ain't great neither," James smiles at him, sipping at his own cup.

"Better than the piss from ol' Eaton." He reaches behind them to grab the bottle, pouring himself another cup.

"Here, here," James laughs.

"James!" he startles when he hears his name shouted from across the fire pit. "Play us a song, James!" Sotiris is waving wildly at him with one arm, the other around a giggling Ophelia, and he can't help but laugh, shaking his head.

"Alright, alright!" he replies as he stands, "lemme get my guitar at least!" Sotiris cheers as he heads back inside to fetch the instrument.

 

The gathering quiets when he sits back down beside Nate, and Courtney settles on his opposite side not long after. Even O'Connell shuts his mouth while James begins to strum a tune.

It's a song he knows well, but doesn't remember how. A lot of things are like that, he thinks. It doesn't bother him when the gang is drinking and laughing around him. When the chorus comes, they sing along, off-key and out of sync, and James can only laugh as he leads them.

Things quiet down after a few songs, the small group mostly just talking amongst themselves. Nate leaves him to go consort with Bennett over in the shadows of the gate. Then Courtney's head rests against his shoulder as he idly plucks at the strings, and he smiles to himself. They always were a total lightweight.

"Doin' alright, Blake?" he mutters to them, earning a hum in reply.

"Tired. Didn't sleep well last night." they mumble. They both startle as Ophelia bursts into laughter across the fire, and Courtney sighs, straightening.

"Dreams again?" James pauses his song, pouring himself another drink.

"Yeah," Courtney yawns, "think I'ma turn in early." they stretch as they stand, and James gives them a sympathetic look.

"Good luck, then," he waves them off, returning to his song.

He sets his guitar down when he begins to feel too sluggish and unsteady to play. At some point, Nate settles in next to him again. The others are too drunk or distracted to notice his lips on James' neck, the way James melts into his touch. He shivers as the man's fingertips run along his spine, and suddenly he _wants_ him, more than anything.

"Wanna take this party upstairs, sweetheart?" Nate whispers to him, his teeth grazing his pulse.

James can only nod, and Nate moves away from him, a sly grin on his face.

"Have a g'night, ya damn degenerates!" Nate calls as he stands, and James tries to calm his racing heart as he walks away. The remainder of the group calls back happily, with varying combinations of _night!_ and _asshole!_

James waits a moment before he follows him. His ears burn as Sotiris wiggles her facial plates at him as he passes.

 

He doesn't fully realize how drunk he is until he's stumbling up the stairs to Nate's room.

Clever hands grab him by the collar of his shirt, shoving him into the door, and he moans against soft lips. His hands cup Nate's jaw, thumbs catching on the stubble there, relishing the feeling of his body pressed against him.

The gunslinger pulls open the buttons of his shirt, and James leans his head back, allowing him to kiss and suck at his throat, then his collarbone, then his chest. He feels lost in it all as the shirt is pushed off his shoulders.

Nate pulls him away from the door and leads him to the bed, and James' head spins as he's pushed into the mattress. Suddenly he has his hands around Nate's hips as he grinds against his arousal, the both of them sighing and panting. The man pulls his own shirt off over his head before lunging back in, kissing James sloppily.

Things blur together. He thinks most of it's probably a fever dream, the way Nate's touching him like he _wants_ him, like he _cares_ about him. His lips are soft and wet and wild, but there's not as much teeth as usual, his hands exploring instead of hurting. There's no harsh words on his tongue as James rolls them over, instead earning a breathy groan and arms around his shoulders.

He pushes hair away from Nate's face when he kisses him again. He moans as he ruts against him, his cock sliding along wet lips, living for the breathy _'c'mon, c'mon,'_ it earns him.

Blunt nails dig into his back as he pushes into him. James groans, his forehead falling against Nate's shoulder, bottoming out. He starts to thrust slow, deep, relishing how the man feels around his cock, so tight and wet and hot. Nate's legs wrap around his hips, egging him on when he starts to fuck him in earnest.

At some point he untangles Nate's arms from around his shoulders, sitting back on his heels. He drinks in the image of the man beneath him, hair wild and spread over the pillow, panting and gasping while James fucks him. He can't help how his hands wander, over lean thighs and narrow hips, over the dark hair dusting his stomach and chest.

He moves his hand back down over his torso, watching Nate bite his lip as he thumbs over his dick. James knows he's not gonna last much longer, but he wants to see Nate come first. He's not disappointed when the man curses at him, growling out his _name,_ hips bucking against his hand.

Nate's cunt tightens around his cock, and that's all it takes to send him over the edge. James leans over him, braces an arm by his head, thrusting and gasping as his release pulses inside the gunslinger.

James collapses onto him when he pulls out. He waits for Nate to shove him out of his bed, kick him out and tell him he's worthless.

But then there's a hand in his hair, stroking instead of pulling, and if James was awake and sober, it might’ve frightened him. But dozing off with his head on the man's shoulder, a hand splayed over his chest, legs tangled together - it's a tenderness he's sorely missed. He'll take it where he can, even if it's just a weird, drunken dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lied. There will be more.
> 
> And thanks to [Alconis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alconis/pseuds/Alconis) for lending me Bennett, and [Cherrybomb](https://sheischerrybomb.tumblr.com) for lending me Ophelia. There will be more of them to come :3c


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He didn't see much of Nate that week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for some dubcon themes this chapter.

James curses at himself. He's not a jealous person, he's really not. But seeing Nate with that creepy witch when it feels like he himself has been avoided all week - it  _ stings. _

He watches the two of them out in the yard from his sniper nest. They're talking and smoking by the fence, Bennett standing closer to Nate than James ever had the courage to. 

James tears his eyes away. Why does he care? Nate can do whatever he wants with whoever he wants. And it's not like the two of them were ever… something. 

He keeps thinking about the way Nate touched him when they were drunk. He was so… kind. And then he woke up with the man asleep next to him, and he'd never seen him so vulnerable before.

He wonders if he crossed a line.

The thought makes him lightheaded, panic bubbling up in his chest.

Then the voices start again. Most of the time he can ignore them, but this time they've got him shaking, tears streaming down his cheeks.

They're right, and he knows it. He fucked up this time, fucked up bad. Nate doesn't want him anymore, and it's all his fault.

His head falls back against the wall. He feels sick to his stomach, his heart pounding in his ears. He stares up at the ramshackle roof above his head, sun shining through the cracks, but he feels distant from it. Like if he just tried hard enough, he could sink into the cot in his crow's nest and let himself drown in it.

There's hands on his shoulders. He doesn't know if they're real. They move to cup his face, but his eyes can't focus on anything. He sees blue and black and the brightest green, and it makes him think of someone, but he's too dizzy to remember who.

 

When he opens his eyes, there's another person in his cot with him. His head rests on Ophelia's shoulder with her arm around him, her fingers tracing circles over his bicep. James sighs, feeling  _ exhausted.  _

"This Nate's fault?" she asks after some time. James' brow furrows, but she probably can't see.

"I - not really." he replies softly.

"Don't lie to me, JJ." 

"I'm not," he whines. The sound of her heart beating helps him calm his own. "You know I'm just sick. Little things set me off." 

"Which is why he ain't good for you," she hisses, "he ain't good for any of us."

James knows she isn't mad at him. If anything, she's trying to protect him. But it's not needed here, he thinks. Nate doesn't mean him any harm.

"You sound like you been plannin' summin'," he mumbles.

"Yeah," she sighs, "there's a lotta talk about a city these days, under that big white ball." she pauses before continuing, "I'm going. And you should come with."

James' breath puffs against the fabric of her shirt as he laughs.

"Do I look like I belong in a city?" 

"I'm serious." Ophelia pulls back enough to meet his gaze. "James."

James sighs. "I… I can't. I can't leave him."

"James, he's using you!" her tone becomes harsh, and James recoils.

"That ain't true!" he pulls back from her, sitting up. "He's - you don't know him like I do." he tries to ignore how his voice breaks on the last word, his eyes stinging once more.

Ophelia's face softens, her mouth opening like she's gonna say something, but then closing again.

"I'm sorry." she says eventually. James only sniffles, moving to sit on the edge of the cot. She places a hand on his shoulder, but quickly draws back when it makes him flinch. 

He doesn't hear her leave, but she's gone when he comes back to himself once more. He takes a deep breath. Suddenly, he feels the need to be outside.

 

* * *

 

When he comes back in from the woods, Nate's leaning against the side of the warehouse, that awful hat casting a shadow over his eyes and a cigarette between his lips.

"Hey there, cowboy," Nate grins at him when he shuts the gate, "how you livin'? Haven't seen you 'round much." 

James pauses, caught off guard. Had he been imagining things?

_ Obviously. _ He feels like an idiot for thinking Nate was  _ avoiding _ him. He's a busy man - he can't give James  _ all _ his attention.

"Um. Fine," he replies cautiously. Nate clicks his tongue.

"Y'seem tense," he moves off the wall, stepping into James' space.

"Just…" he sighs, "had a rough morning."

Nate knows what he means. "Sorry to hear that," he says, his voice the slightest bit softer than usual. Then he gives James a grin, all teeth. "Want me to… help you unwind?"

James' pulse quickens. He nods enthusiastically, and Nate chuckles darkly. "C'mon, then. Unless y'want me to fuck you where everyone can see."

James rolls his eyes at him, but can't deny how the idea makes his cock twitch.

 

James is thankful it's the middle of the summer, otherwise he'd probably be fuckin' freezing. 

He's seated in Nate's chair, his hands tied behind it, naked and completely exposed to the gunslinger. Nate watches him from a couple feet away, leaning against his desk with a cigarette in his fingers. The attention from his burning gaze has James aching and hard. 

"Ain't you just a picture," Nate says through the smoke. He extends his arm, tapping the end of the cigarette. James shivers as the ash dusts over his thigh. 

Nate straightens himself, moving off the desk. He moves around behind James, and James gasps as he feels the heat of the tip of the cigarette just ghosting over his shoulders. He hears the man chuckle behind him.

"Like playin' with fire, huh?" he says before leaning over James, lowering his voice to a whisper, "that's a question."

"Yes, yessir," James breathes out quickly. Nate moves away from him once more.

"Oh, the things I could do to you." when he stops in front of James again, he wears a dangerous grin.

"Please," he whispers. Nate puts the cigarette to his lips, takes a drag.

"What was that?" he asks as he exhales.

"Please, sir," he says a little louder.

Nate leans in real close, studying James' face with an unreadable expression. If there were no consequences, he could lean in and capture the man's lips; but James knows better.

His eyes widen and he gasps when he feels a sudden sharp  _ burning _ at his hip. Nate's face remains cool as he twists the butt of the cigarette against his skin, leaving James squirming and panting as he's marked.

"Ain't that a good look on you," he says as he flicks the extinguished butt onto the desk. "You always was pretty when y' cried."

James shudders at the fire behind those eyes fixed on him. If Nate is the sun, then James is an age-old tragedy, flying too close on wings of wax. And if he gets burned, so be it.

Nate pulls him to his feet, walks him to his bed. Shoves him down onto his front. His arms are still bound behind him, so he gets a face full of the sheets before turning his head to the side. Nate moves him around, pushes his knees forward so his ass is in the air, then leaves him to rummage under the bed.

James sighs when he feels cool, slick fingers pressing into his hole. He's missed this, he thinks as he closes his eyes. He moans at the feeling of the man's fingers inside him, moving his hips back against him.

"Don't even got my dick on yet, and yer already this fuckin' needy," Nate chuckles. James whines at the prospect of  _ more. _ "You want that, whore?"

"F-fuck, yes," he mumbles against the pillow, but quickly corrects himself, "yes,  _ sir," _

Nate's fingers withdraw, and James yelps as his palm hits him hard across his ass. There's a short bark of laughter, then he feels the mattress shift and the click of a buckle behind him. Then Nate returns to him, and James groans in anticipation as he lines up the head of his cock with James' ass.

The moan that escapes James' throat is explicit as Nate slides into him. Yeah, he's  _ definitely _ missed this. It's been way too long since he's been fucked, and the way Nate does it is  _ perfect. _

He sees stars as the other man angles his thrusts just right, slow and harsh. Nate's hands grip his hips as he picks up his pace, and James loses himself in it.

"You -" he whines when Nate pulls out, shifting away for a moment before he's back, "- scream like a goddamn whore." 

And then he's moving fabric around James' jaw, stuffing it between his teeth and tying it behind his head. James whimpers into the makeshift gag, the taste of it not particularly enjoyable, but he forgets about it when Nate's cock enters him again.

James can only groan and gasp as Nate picks up where he left off, fucking him hard. He can feel the pressure coiling in his core, and he tries to grind back against Nate, and he's  _ so close - _

And then he  _ stops, _ drawing a needy whine from James.

"Not so fast, cowboy," Nate laughs, pulling out to slowly rut against James' ass instead. James makes a desperate sound behind the gag as Nate's hands knead at his cheeks. "I got plans fer you, remember?"

Nate's hands start to feel hot, overwhelmingly so. James' eyes widen and he squirms as they get  _ hotter, _ until the pain is white-hot and he feels dizzy. He pants against the gag when Nate pulls back, distantly hearing the other man's tongue click.

"Yer always goddamn gorgeous when I mark you, huh?" Nate says, tracing a finger over the burnt flesh.

He pushes his cock back into him suddenly, and James lets out a pitiful moan. The fabric of the gag is soaked, drooling onto the pillow as Nate pounds into him, pushing him closer to the edge once more.

James thinks he might cry when Nate stops again. Then tears  _ actually _ begin to well in his eyes when the gunslinger’s palm rests at the small of his back, and his Light flares again. James' moans turn pained, but the man doesn't relent.

Instead, Nate traces a line down his spine, searing into his skin. James bites down hard on the gag, starting to pull on his restraints as everything becomes  _ too much. _ Nate places his hand on the back of his neck, pulsing solar energy, and the burning pain has James screaming.

Nate doesn't stop.

Panic rises in James' throat. He struggles against him, but he feels dizzy, weak. He hears Nate's voice, feels his hands on him, his cock filling him. He cries for Nate to stop, but his words are muffled and obscured. Then there's the fire again, and James sobs helplessly.

 

When he comes to, he's laying on his back in Nate's bed with Minali hovering over him. She doesn't have to say anything for James to feel the judgmental heat of her one-eyed stare before she vanishes again.

His mind replays the last thing he remembers before the void took him. He remembers the fear he felt, the breach of trust. His lip quivers, and before he can stop himself, he's crying.

He covers his eyes with his forearm as he lets the tears fall. Fuck, he feels so pathetic.

"Hey there, James." James tenses when he hears the smoky drawl from somewhere in the room. He turns his head to see Nate watching him some feet away, his expression unreadable. "Listen, uh," he slowly stands from his chair, "we got a little carried away there, yeah?"

James swallows. Then he nods. Nate sits on the edge of the bed.

"Now, I ain't gonna do that again, a'ight?" Nate says. He slowly reaches out a hand, and James relaxes when his fingers brush over the coarse hair on his jaw.

"Alright," James sighs, his voice feeling raw. The gunslinger smiles.

"Lemme make it up t'you?" he leans over James, his hand moving over his throat and chest. James shivers as it moves along his stomach to rest on his hip. He sighs shakily when Nate shifts to sit between his thighs, his cock giving a hopeful twitch.

"Okay. Yeah," he breathes, and the man grins.

James gasps when he grips his half-hard cock, stroking loosely. He presses his lips to James' hip, his eyes burning as he looks up at him. James is overcome with how fuckin' handsome he looks, as he runs his tongue along the underside of his length. He reaches a hand out, wanting to touch him, but draws back hesitantly, not knowing if he's allowed.

Nate grabs his wrist in his indecision, and James gasps when the man places the hand on his head. He runs his fingers through his unruly hair, surprised at how  _ soft _ it is, fingertips digging into his scalp when he takes his cock into his mouth.

He does his best to keep his hips still as Nate swallows his cock, but  _ fuck, _ seeing him like this - hair mussed from James' fingers, his lips wrapped around him - makes it damn difficult. 

He moans and pants, losing himself to that clever tongue, the hand around the base of his cock, stroking what he can't swallow down. It doesn't take long for James to near the edge, and he breathes out a warning for Nate.

The man's eyes flick up to meet his own, and their burning intensity makes James shudder. He moans as Nate keeps sucking him, his tongue finding all the ridges and veins along his cock. And before he knows it, he's gasping, Nate holding down his hips as he cums.

He pants as he watches Nate sit back on his heels, leaning to the side to spit his cum onto the floor beside the bed. The motion reminds James of the flames he eats, the burnt matches he discards. He supposes it's fitting.

"Y'good?" Nate mutters after a moment.

_ No, _ James thinks. "Yeah," he says instead.

 

* * *

 

"This spot taken?" 

James doesn't need to look up from his sketchbook to know the rich sound of Courtney's voice.

"Nah," he replies simply, smiling to himself. He hears the shuffling of them climbing out the open window, then settling beside him on the roof. They get close like they're trying to look over his shoulder, but then leave his space, snorting a laugh.

"Can't see shit like you can," Courtney says. They hold out their hand, creating a soft glow of solar Light. James' eyes quickly adjust as his scribbles are illuminated.

He'd been drawing a fox he'd seen in the woods earlier that day. The fox had been interested in James, getting close and then bounding off once more. Eventually, it crept into his lap when he sat down on the forest floor and let him scratch its ears before it took off.

"Oh, that's adorable," Courtney smiles in his peripheral. James chuckles, a little shy at the kind words. 

Courtney lays there with him for some time. It's not rare for the two of them to meet like this in the small hours of the morning, the both of them too haunted to sleep. Sometimes they talk about it, but sometimes they don't. James thinks there's a mutual understanding there; that sometimes talking hurts too much, and just having someone to lean on is enough.


	5. Epilogue

Iron Wolves. 

They came under the cover of night. James saw them coming through the trees, but it was too little, too late.

The gang stood their ground. Barricaded the garage door and readied themselves. But nothing could've prepared them for the fire, the howling of wolves. Actual, literal wolves, standing as tall as James and with teeth like knives.

Flames tore through the outer defences. A warrior with a great axe tore through the barricade. The gang picked off as many as they could, but there were too many.

Nate called a retreat.

Ophelia didn't listen. She never listened to him. James watched her jump through the fire and back into the fray. 

They kept moving, picking off a few as they fell back upstairs. James heard O'Connell shout as a wolf grabbed him, dragging him down the stairs between its teeth.

When they got to the window, Quirk stayed behind. She was Ghostless, a decrepit old exo. She cocked her shotgun and told them to go.

Courtney's Light kept them going as they retreated down the back of the building, and into the woods.

Nate led them, and James watched their rear. It was always like that, when he thought about it.

James took an arrow to the shoulder, his vision blurring as the void drained his Light. He fought it off, but the Wolves had already caught up. 

Nate released a blaze of knives, one for every Wolf around James. He pulled him up by his arm, pushing him forward as he began to reload his revolver. He had to keep moving.

He heard Courtney scream as he ran. He heard the crackling and blazing of fire tearing through the trees. There were tears in his eyes, but he had to keep moving.

He heard his name shouted when he reached a Fallen encampment in a clearing. The place was littered with bodies, and Sotiris was pulling her knife from a dead captain.

They couldn't stay. They got in the old captain's ketch and took off.


End file.
